


Clones: Part Deux

by Shrift (LFN_Archivist)



Category: La Femme Nikita
Genre: Humor, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-10 22:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17434907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LFN_Archivist/pseuds/Shrift
Summary: This story was originally posted to the LFN Storyboard Archives by Shrift.





	Clones: Part Deux

**Author's Note:**

> This is a tongue-in-cheek spoof of LFN (with many inside jokes from the various Message Boards and Story Boards) with slight spoilers for Imitation of Death, Cat and Mouse, and Outside the Box. It's rated for nude bathing, nude sunbathing, and Jerky bits...

PART 1: SETTING THE SCENE 

The briefing had started out like any other. Nikita took her place between Michael and Walter, while Birkoff sat with his hands clasped on the briefing table. Operations stalked to the table and jabbered melodramatically for a few minutes when a warning alarm went off. 

"It sounds like an air horn," Walter comments, twisting around in his chair to survey Systems. 

"Michael," Operations orders, gifting him with an half-smile. Nikita gapes, but said nothing. 

Michael stand up and buttons his coat, walking out of view. Several minutes later, he strides back to the briefing table and sits down without a word. Operations continues the briefing as if nothing has happened. Five minutes later, the alarm goes off again. Without being asked, Michael stands and walks out of view. Walter, Birkoff and Nikita crane their heads to see where he iss going; Operations clears his throat and their eyes snap back to the glowing blue screen. 

The alarm sounds twice more during the briefing; the final alarm comes as the briefing is ending. Nikita trails after Michael, with Walter and Birkoff hot on her heels. Michael enters the elevator. 

"Level 9," Walter rumbles. Nikita gives him an odd look and enters the lift. She begins punching in a code. 

"The codes Adrian gave you won't work," Birkoff grouses. "Operations had me change them after--" 

He breaks off when the elevator begins to move. Nikita shoots him a triumphant smile. 

Birkoff shrugs. "Oh well. Screw continuity." 

PART 2: DEEP IN THE BOWELS OF LEVEL 9 

They peer around the corner as Michael advances to a very large containment unit and cracked open the heavy door. Female screams can be heard amidst smashing glass and sounds of beatings. 

"Lyons," Michael says. Immediately the noise inside becomes a deafening silence, then there is a resounding crash. Michael shoves the door shut quickly and walks down another corridor towards his office. 

After his foot steps die away, Nikita moves from behind the corner. She presses a code into the panel to bring up the video surveillance of the room. Most of the camera is obscured by what suspiciously appears to be a black thong; the rest of the lens is smeared with nose prints. 

"Nikita!" Walter snaps as she reached for the door handle. "Don't go in there." 

"Why not?" Nikita asks, turning her big baby blues on the munitions expert. 

"We don't know what's in there," he hedges, avoiding eye contact. 

"Walter," she drawls, walking towards him. "What do you know?" 

Walter's eyes bug as Nikita corners him, but is literally saved by the hooting alarm. Nikita runs for the alcove, grabbing Birkoff by the front of his shirt and pushing Walter ahead of her. They duck around the corner just as Michael's footsteps begin echoing in the corridor. 

They hear the door creak open, filling the hallway with a deafening din. Michael shouts a word that sounds like, "Arrete!" Again, there is a loud crashing noise; the noise level is greatly reduced, but chattering can still be heard. 

Then, Michael says, "Just...obey." 

When the door slams shut, Nikita emerges from behind the corner. 

"What's going on, Michael?" she asks, covering the distance with her long legs. Michael turns on one foot and regards her with an inscrutable expression. 

"What do you mean?" he replies, voice cool. 

"Go ahead and tell her, Michael. You know she'll just mess around in the secure nodes and get herself in trouble if you don't," Walter growls, dragging Birkoff out of their hidey-hole. 

Michael sighs and focuses on a point above and behind Nikita's left shoulder. "We're holding some buffered hostiles." 

"More clones," Walter interjects, coming to stand next to Nikita. 

"The Agency asked us to intervene when it was discovered that the outbreak of clones was not restricted to Section," Michael says softly. 

"I want to see what's in there," Nikita asserts belligerently. She stares Michael down until he relents, pivoting on his heel to open the heavy door. Nikita strides in to find... 

PART 3: BENDING THE LAWS OF THE UNIVERSE 

...her way blocked by a stacked triangle of empty tequila bottles. Empty pizza boxes are strewn across the white floor. The remains of what appears to be flan is scattered near the tequila. 

Black-clad women of all shapes, sizes and creeds mingle around the room. A group in the corner appears to be drunkenly singing. Nikita strains to make out the words: 

_"Give it to me, Mikey...voila, voila!"_

One group near the door appears to be debating in code. "IMHO," one person says, "MCDAHW, ALDGWDI!" 

"ITA! MCLMNA!" another shouts in response, sparking of a chorus of, "LOL" and "LMAO." 

Another group in the far corner is gathered around a television, eyes glued to the screen where a man is prancing around in a tutu and combat boots. They are sighing and giggling, a large puddle of drool at their feet. Curiously enough, they all seem to be wearing cushioned pads on their rear ends. 

Nikita hurriedly backs out of the room before she is noticed and gives Michael a wide-eyed stare. "Who are they?" 

"They appear to be members of an Internet-based terrorist group with Agency affiliations. They have different factions, which all gather at a place they call the MB," Michael answers, pulling out a PDA from his jacket pocket. 

"They know about Section," Walter growls. 

"Yes, but _who_ are they?" Nikita demands. 

Michael scrolls through the information on his PDA. "We have Zzoo, Zzzoo, Zzoomama, tee, Denali, .denali, norma, normal, Ravenmc, raven, raven1, Raven, Mona, Mona2, Mona1347, Shrift, real_shrift, Christine, Name Already In Use, Sanlin, Sanlin2--" at the mention of Sanlin, Walter gives a strangled choke. 

"Good Lord! Not _two_ Sanlins! Doesn't she already have a twin?" 

Michael continues as if he hasn't been interrupted. "We also have unconfirmed reports of a taichi, va, and tia, among others. We had to gather all those who have been affected by the cloning. We have yet to decipher which are the originals and which are the clones, as some have been cloned multiple times..." 

PART 4: JUST...OBEY 

"Okay, we know _who_ they are, but what's with the alarm?" Nikita questions, glancing hesitantly at the closed door. 

Michael manages to look uncomfortable at Walter's gravelly laugh. "Well, sugar, they've made some demands on Section. Every time things get out of hand in there, they trip an alarm. They claim only Michael's voice can calm them down. They even gave a list to Madeline of things he's supposed to say." 

Nikita again glances curiously at Walter, her mouth slightly open at his sudden display of knowledge. She clears her throat. "What, uh, what kinds of things?" 

Michael glances down at the PDA again. "Lyons; reconnaissance; video, gathering intel; get ready; yes; just obey--" 

Nikita slumps against the wall, her knees growing weak. The alarm blasts again. 

Michael flings open the door and pokes his head inside. "Am I under orders to please you?" he says. Nikita scrabbles at the wall to keep herself upright. There is a moment of quiet inside the containment unit, and then all the voices combine and scream a single word. 

"YES!!!" 

Michael pushes the door shut and continues with his recitation. "Do you need to relax tonight; you don't love me; sometimes all we have is our dreams; I want this to be good for you...Ni-ki-ta?" 

Nikita mumbles something vague, her eyes glassed over and bright. Michael extends his hand and pulls her up from her sprawled position on the floor. 

Looking straight into Michael's eyes, Nikita says, "Michael. My place. An hour." 

"Alright," Michael agrees equably. Then, with a child-like expression, he says, "Why are you calling me Michael?" 

"Joel, they're quoting the wrong scripts again," Birkoff whines off camera. 

PART 5: MAYBE IT'S MORE PIE 

"It's your line, kid," Walter growls, his face close to the lens, glaring slightly off camera. Birkoff walks back into the scene. 

"Oh, okay. Die, you bastard!" Birkoff screams. He squirts Walter with a Super-Soaker. 

"Not you, _too_ ," Walter groans, throwing up his hands and walking off camera. From off to the side, he snaps, "I may wear a bandanna, but that doesn't mean I'm not a professional!" 

Birkoff smirks in Walter's direction. "I haven't been able to decipher their code yet. We may have a lead on MiMP and YGG! Maybe it's More Pie and Yes, Go Gadgets! I've got a team working on it, now." 

Still off camera, Walter begins humming the theme from _Jaws_. 

On cue, Madeline walks into the alcove at a sedate pace. She smiles serenely, and passes in front of the camera. As the camera pans away from Madeline's figure, a muffled "Ooopmh!" comes from somewhere on the set and Walter suddenly stops humming. 

Madeline comes to a stop in front of Michael, with Nikita draped loosely against his shoulder, repeating, "Be patient," at a low mutter. 

"Michael," she greets, ignoring Nikita. "There's been a new development." 

"Yes?" 

"The Clones have demanded a twenty-four hour 'Michael Cam', and I see no reason to deny their request." 

"A...Michael Cam?" Michael repeats, sounding pained. 

"Precisely. And we've received new Intel. Apparently, there's a Mick Clone loose on _Highlander: The RavenM_ , a Jenna Clone on _Hercules: The Legendary Journeys_ , and a recurring Gray Clone on _Due South_. We need to clean this up." 

PART 6: HALF A DOG 

"It's impossible!" Birkoff groans, pushing away from the computer. "All those code words...J1NWM, TETLTHTWTB, JAGOIMEBT...and now they're chattering about buying half a dog..." 

"Half a dog?" Michael repeats, bending over Birkoff's station. 

"Yeah, and I'm not even going to touch the techno-gremlins and cyber-tribbles... _or_ the constant references to nude bathing in a mountain lake." 

"Could that be the location of their headquarters?" Nikita asks, pulling up a chair next to Birkoff. 

>From behind them, Michael makes a sound curiously resembling a snort. "Are there any mentions of an Ovila?" 

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Birkoff asks absently, scrolling down the screen. 

"Forget about it. It's unrelated." 

Before Nikita can grill Michael on the comment, the alarm screams again. The surveillance cameras follow his progress down the hall and into the elevator, part of the new, twenty-four hour 'Michael Cam'. Nikita trails after him, trailed in turn by Walter and Birkoff. 

Michael approaches the containment unit, opens the door, and steps inside. Nikita hears him utter, "What can I do for you?" 

Evil cackles spill out from the door, and inside, Michael's form disappears from view as the door swings inexorably shut. 

Michael hadn't made it out in time. 

PART 7: RABID HAMSTER BRIGADE 

They stand and stare dumbly at the closed door, startled when the alarm begins whooping. Red strobe lights flash along the corridor that suddenly becomes flooded with Section operatives. Operations comes storming down one corridor with Madeline following behind him at the sedate pace her spiked heels allow her. 

"What's going on?" he thunders. 

"They got him," Walter intones, shaking his head. 

Just then, a door cracks open and a small, pink bunny scuttles out. It wears sunglasses and sandals, and beats an incessant rhythm onto a toy drum. Operatives stare at it for a few seconds until someone snaps and takes the battery out with a shot from a sniper rifle. 

On cue, Andie steps out from behind a door and raises her black-gloved hands into the air. "Get them, my pretties!" she chants. A swarm of hamsters run from behind her, scurrying into the hall and quickly climbing up the pants of operatives who don't favor mission pants as tight as Michael's. The furry rodents bite and gnaw until more than half of the Section Cold Ops run screaming in the opposite direction, pulling little bodies from their skin and chucking them away. 

Operations, distracted by the melee, turns around at a soft whisper of sound. His jaw drops. Well-armed, black-clad women range out before him, consisting of: (*deep breath by narrator and an apology if she misses someone who wanted in on the mission*) wiboth, mak, Shirleym, pbj, Brenna, Ursula, Catsma, Jaron, Jean, Reyna, Celia, Trudy, zm, and kiwi. Sister chuckles on a stool in the back with a video recorder, on which is emblazoned "Mikey Cam" in red lipstick. Lorraine is on the flank, resplendent in her flannel nightie and CFMBSs, with a tell-tale orange smudge across her face. On the opposite flank smokes Scorch, a fire-breathing little red dragon. 

Zm steps forward, bazooka balanced carelessly on her shoulder and runs her fingers through her fiery hair. "We've come for the clones." 

"What?" Operations thunders. Scorch snorts a thread of fire by Operations' head. Operations flashes zm a startled and suddenly gracious smile. "Uh, what did you want with them?" 

"We've come to take care of what's ours," zm drawls, casually bringing the sight on her bazooka to bear on Operations. "Besides, you're keeping some people in there from sending in their checks to pay for the Labernese. And I'm afraid we can't allow that." 

PART 8: AROHA AMIDST JERKY BITS 

Wiboth steps forward with her hand on her hip and glances around. "This is not my profile, zm. I know my typing isn't _that_ bad..." 

"The Intel was soft. We've got a source on the inside who says we're going to need all the cannon fodder we can gather." 

"That's it!" wiboth sighs. "I'm in MR." She backed up and disappears around a corner. 

"Where's Jurgen when you need him?" someone shouts from the back. Petty rushes in and forces her way through the crowd. 

"Here he is," she proclaims, holding up a jar over her head. "JIAJ!" 

"Right," zm nods. "Blow the door." 

The JIAJ is arranged in front on the door with a set of charges. The crowd disperses behind the doors as the LED readout begins counting down. 

"Tell me," Madeline says, approaching the armed kiwi. "Why are you doing this?" 

"Aroha," kiwi replies happily. "Which means, _love_. That, and Season 3 hasn't even been wrapped yet." 

Madeline smiles serenely and clasps her hands in front of her. "Fascinating." 

The corridor is wracked with a large explosion, walls shuddering from the force of the detonation. Black-clad women pour out from behind the doors, stepping over splattered Jerky bits. 

When the dust clears, zm leads the charge into the gaping hole in the wall and finds... 

PART 9: LOCAL ANESTHETIC 

Meanwhile, the second team is infiltrating a secure compound, taking out guards with tranq guns and Super-Soakers brimming with novocaine. A guard jumps out from a hallway in the darkened house and takes aim. Anniegt pulls the trigger on her Super-Soaker, and the guard goes down. 

"Say hello to local anesthetic," she says, blowing the imaginary smoke from the barrel of her Super-Soaker. The other MB/SB operatives fan out and begin searching the rooms, consisting of: NanseeCat, kar, yada, Shanola, Willow, EAB, L, Christine, LJL and a slightly confused Scerijne in tow. 

They methodically search the rooms, until finally coming upon a bedroom with the all-important occupant. The black-clad ops gag and bind the man. 

"Zm," NanseeCat calls. The connection crackles. 

"Status," zm says, her voice faint amidst the desperate sounds of a battle. 

"Collateral acquired." 

"Retreat to Staging Point Alpha." 

"Understood," NanseeCat says, signaling to the team to begin exit strategy. 

"And watch out for wiboth...she's gone rogue," zm shouts, an explosion nearly drowning out her voice. 

PART 10: NOTHIN' BUT CHEESY POUFS 

Chuckling, zm sets down the radio she was holding up to her ear and presses the stop button, sounds of the raging battle suddenly ceasing. Black clad women are spread out in a circle around Michael, indulging in a chocolate, cheesy pouf, and Dr. Pepper orgy while listening to his softly accented voice read the phone book. Michael is dressed in leopard-print, skin-tight pants and a fishnet T-shirt, curls riotously spilling over his forehead. 

Operations creeps in with Madeline, stepping carefully around Scorch. He taps zm on the shoulder. "How long do you think you're going to be? We have a world to dominate, you know." 

Irritated by the interruption, zm turns and glares up at Operations. "We're waiting for our secondary teams to converge." 

"Can't you give me a time frame?" 

"I'm not in charge," zm shrugs, attempting to turn her attention back to Michael's voice. 

"Who is?" Madeline interjects smoothly. 

"See that young lady in vinyl with a lap top...typing furiously?" 

"Yes." 

"She's calling the shots." 

" _Her?_ " Operations snorts. 

"Shrift!" zm calls. "Show 'em what the largely female Internet fan base can do!" 

Shrift glances up at Operations over the top of her computer, a wicked gleam in her eye, and begins typing even more rapidly. Suddenly, Madeline slaps Operations across the face. 

"What was that for?" Operations shouts. 

Madeline gives him a Cheshire grin. "Obviously, they have exposed us to psychotropic drugs and are using the power of suggestion to influence our actions." Madeline winks at Shrift and slaps Operations again. 

Zm's com unit crackles again. "Zm, this is mary(josephine670). We have confirmation on the Intel." 

"Bring your team down to Level 9," zm instructs. 

PART 11: MISERY & A NOSE RING 

"It's worse than we thought," mary(josephine670) calls as she jogs into the containment unit. She picks her way over thudded bodies and bends to whisper in zm's ear. 

"This Michael's a clone," she says. 

"We suspected that," zm answers with a nod. 

"We've got the location of the original Michael. He's somewhere in the South Pacific." 

"What's the bad news?" 

Mary(josephine670) gulps and glances behind her at her demoralized team: MorganK, Cyprus, Schnee, mia, Cygnet, Barni, Piety and gracie. "Th-there's a Jurgen clone on the loose." 

All activity in the room halts. 

"It's true," mary(josephine670) insists, whimpering slightly. "He tried to disguise himself with long, ratty hair and a nose ring, but he was spotted last night on ABC network. Some _movie_ called, _One Man's Justice_. MC Hammer was his co-star--" 

When mary(josephine670) passes out from the sheer enormity of her horror, Cygnet steps up and continues. "He played a cop gone bad...a real stretch for his acting muscles. Jerky alternated between inflicting his viewers with Southern and Bronx accents." 

"We need the real Mikey to take out this Jerky clone," zm announces. "Team 3, retreat to Staging Point Alpha. Catsma, you go with them and prepare the distraction." 

Team 3 backs out of the room, careful not to step on the stunned bodies of their comrades. Suddenly, a high voice ululates from somewhere in the rafters. 

Wiboth swoops down on a nylon rope, her black-clad body streaking towards the seated Michael Clone. Her white deck shoes flash over zm's head... 

PART 12: I'VE GOT YOU SUBCUTANEOUS 

Wiboth lets go of the rope and lands in the Michael Clone's lap, snuggling into place with her AK-47 in hand. 

"C'mon Mikey, you're coming with me," she says. "I'm the one-woman extraction team." 

"Ma cher," Michael purrs. "I'm willing to go...but only with _all_ of you." 

Groaning with frustration, wiboth glances about her. "Oh, all _right_. So much for my profile..." 

"Team 1, retreat!" zm calls. Picking themselves up, Team 1 gathers up the tequila-soaked clones and begins exiting the containment unit. 

"Michael!" Nikita shrieks, straining against the Section operatives holding her back. 

Michael, flanked by an enormous swarm of black-clad women, shrugs at Nikita and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Ni-ki-ta. I must go with them. They _understand_ me." 

"Don't try to track us," zm warns Operations as she backs away. "We've got more than one hostage." 

Nikita collapses into a sobbing heap as the MB/SB operatives retreat through Section and into the gassed and waiting mission vans. They drive recklessly to Staging Point Alpha, where Teams 2 and 3 are ready and waiting to weigh anchor. Operatives spill onto the yacht. 

"All those who suffer from sea-sickness, report down below to Catsma," zm orders. Several operatives break position and stumble down the stairs. Catsma, drugged to her feline whiskers, giggles happily and hands out Dramamine cocktails. 

"ICE tape is cued! Take a seat around the TV," she orders, swaying slightly. 

Up above, zm ambles over to where the collateral is tied to a deck chair. "How are _you_ , George? I trust NanseeCat wasn't too rough on you." 

Sanlin slinks over to zm and whispers in her ear. "What?!?" zm roars. "Celia's taken the Michael Clone _where_?" 

Sanlin grins ferociously. "She's trapped him in the state room. She claims she's searching for subcutaneous tracking devices." 

"Get her out of there, Sanlin." 

Sanlin, and Sanlin2 behind her, don their Viking helmets and heft their battle axes. Their grins are wicked and dangerous. "Our pleasure. We want our French elocution lessons." 

PART 13: NEKKID MIKEY 

So that she wouldn't be canceled by a swinging battle ax, Celia _did_ produce the subcutaneous tracking device that was under the skin of the Michael Clone's thigh. Celia was hustled out of the state room, given a daiquiri, and placed in front of the TV playing the ICE tape for the duration of the sail. Days later, exhausted, fingers stained orange, the MB/SB operatives docked the yacht. 

Sweating, black-clad operatives roam down the sunlit nudist beach. The Michael Clone is now dressed in mission pants and strutting down the beach, shoulders swaying, muscles moving smoothly. The majority of the black-clad operatives are walking behind the Michael Clone, tripping and leaving a wide swath of drool on the sand. Finally, the stumbling group comes across a deeply tanned, Nekkid Mikey on a lounge chair. The _J'en Suis_ veterans manage to stay standing. 

Nekkid Mikey slowly removes his sunglasses and stares at the gathered operatives with his silver-green eyes. His eyes focus on his clone, narrowing with understanding. 

"You're coming with us," zm announces. 

"Oui," Nekkid Mikey answers. Several minutes pass as the majority of the group faints away and slowly recovers. 

Somehow, the group manages to herd Nekkid Mikey to their enclave on the South Pacific isle, the heartier operatives forced to drag their swooning comrades. They enter the airy structure, candles flickering and incense burning. 

"Welcome to the Tiki Temple," High Priestess Leigh intones. Priestess Dana and Priestess Wintor stand beside her. 

"We worship the holy trinity of chocolate, coffee, and Mikey." At Dana's words, Wintor hurriedly stuffs a picture of Birkoff into the pocket of her flowing robe and grins at the assembled crowd. 

"High Priestess Leigh, we need to use your cloning facilities," zm announces. Operatives looked towards her expectantly. "Here's what we're going to do..." 

PART 14: FINALE AT THE TTPZ 

Schnee, having volunteered to single-handedly take out the Jerky Clone, left the Tiki Temple and hitched a ride back with George on the yacht. With her, she took two Michael Clones. One for her, and one to be delivered to Section One. Everyone agreed that they _did_ want the rest of Seasons 3 and 4... _and_ that the Jerky Clone must be destroyed at all costs. The real Michael was set free after the cloning process was complete, but he decided to make his home in the Tiki Temple with the DOMs. He led classes every day instructing the Michael Clones on "Michael-ness," on "Dominique-ness," and on "Ovila-ness." He often commented that he felt like he was finally giving something _back_ to society. 

Michael Clones were created for everyone, complete with the laundry cart accessory and the urge to constantly make alcoholic, iced fruit drinks. They created a deliriously happy commune at the Tiki Temple, under the direction of Leigh. And so, the Tiki Temple Petting Zoo was formed. Available to the public were cuddly little hamsters, puppies, deer, jungle cats, elephants and other assorted animals. The Tiki Temple Petting Zoo enjoyed an enormous opening success, until the operatives were forced to post signs reading, _"Don't Pet the Michaels."_ Popularity waned somewhat after that, but the Tiki Temple Petting Zoo managed to bring in enough money to support the commune...with enough left over to purchase Satellite TV. 


End file.
